


Toad and Heir

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Disappointment, Expectations, Father and Son, Gen, Humor, Parental Discipline, Revenge, prank, respect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 09:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16531880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Gary seeks revenge on Timon.





	Toad and Heir

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for parental spanking but I see Duke Gareth as a father who would spank if he felt pushed to it.

Toad and Heir 

“Timon says you’ve been sneaking into the kitchens to steal sweets from the cellars.” Father, who had only been back in Naxen for two days but had already started taking Gary to task for every flaw and prank, frowned across his study at Gary. 

“Timon’s a toad.” Gary scowled, thinking that when Timon wasn’t hopping about in Father’s service, he was snooping on Gary’s misdeeds. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Father’s lips were thin, a sign that he was losing what scant patience he had with Gary’s endless mischief. 

“You didn’t ask a question, Father,” pointed out Gary, lifting his chin truculently. 

“I am now.” Father arched an eyebrow. “Have you been stealing sweets from the kitchen cellars, son?” 

Gary hesitated. It was tempting to lie, but Father’s punishments were always more severe when he lied, and the toad Timon had already testified against him, proving him guilty as far as Father was concerned. 

“Yes, Father,” he admitted at last, attempting a cheery grin. “The dessert after dinner just isn’t enough for a growing boy like me.” 

“You won’t be having dessert after dinner for a week.” Father’s stern sentence wiped the grin from Gary’s cheeks. “Perhaps that will teach you not to sneak and steal like a common thief.” 

“A week without dessert?” Gary gaped at his father. Few punishments could be as cruel as depriving him of dessert for such a prolonged period. Even a day without dessert was agony to him. 

“It’ll be two weeks if you argue or pout, boy.” Father’s finger rose in warning, and Gary reluctantly dismissed the arguments that he had marshaled against the harshness of this sentence. 

“Yes, Father.” Gary bowed, accepting his punishment even as he swore to himself that he would have his vengeance upon Timon the toad. 

The next afternoon when he had finished with his lessons, Gary went down to the banks of Lake Naxen with a net and a bucket. He often captured, fish, toads, and frogs from the lake to inspect in a bucket before releasing so nobody commented or even noticed when he ambled down to the lake with the net and bucket, whistling a merry tune about boiling toads. 

He caught and freed several toads that weren’t warty enough for his purposes before finally finding a brown-and-green one covered in warts that crouched in a puddle of mud beside the lake’s lapping water. With a triumphant smirk, he threw the net over it and manipulated it into the bucket he had filled with water. 

When he returned to the castle, he crept to the servants’ quarters, which were deserted at this hour, and slipped into the bedchamber Timon, doubtlessly trusting his rank to protect him and his belongings, had so foolishly left unlocked. Once inside Timon’s room, he tucked the toad between Timon’s blankets, twisting them into a knot around the toad, so it wouldn’t escape before Timon climbed into bed. 

Gary snickered as he left Timon’s bedroom and again at breakfast with his parents the next morning when Timon interrupted their meal to sputter, eyes goggly as a toad’s, at Father, “There was a frog in my bed last night, Your Grace.” 

“It wasn’t a frog.” Gary rolled his eyes at Timon’s ignorance of the differences in the anatomy of frogs and toads. He wasn’t worried about his words condemning him. His revenge against Timon was more satisfying when Timon knew it was him who had hidden the toad in his bed. “It was a warty toad because you’re a warty toad.” 

“Apologize to Timon for your prank and for calling him a toad.” Father’s knife—he had been in the midst of cutting his ham before Timon had intruded on their meal—trembled as he jerked it toward the door in a command for Gary to take his leave. “Then go to your room where we’ll discuss your punishment when I’m done eating.” 

“I won’t apologize to a toad,” Gary snapped, tempted to hurl a platter of eggs at Timon’s smug face. 

“Please excuse us, Timon.” That was Father’s polite way of dismissing Timon, and Timon knew it for he retreated from the room with a bow. Once Timon disappeared, shutting the door Gary suspected he would eavesdrop behind in his wake, Father’s courtesy turned to curtness as he beckoned Gary toward his chair. “Come here, son.” 

That particular gesture almost always meant his backside was about to be blistered. Hesitant to endanger his bottom, Gary dragged his feet as he approached his father. His hesitancy flared into kicking and squirming when Father tugged down his breeches and bent him over his lap, commenting crisply as he delivered the first firm swats to Gary’s wriggling rump, “This wouldn’t be happening if you’d been repentant enough to apologize.” 

“I won’t apologize to a toad,” repeated Gary, stubborn despite the flames beginning to burn in his hindquarters. He didn’t want his father to believe that a spanking could easily break his will. 

“Timon is not a toad.” Father emphasized each word with a sharp smack. “He’s served the family faithfully since before you were born. I won’t tolerate you disrespecting him.” 

Gary couldn’t protest this. He was too preoccupied with biting his lip to hold back tears. 

“You won’t put frogs, toads, or any other amphibious life form in anyone’s bed again.” Father’s hand hammered at Gary’s upper thighs, and Gary could no longer prevent himself from crying. “Am I clear?” 

“Yes, sir.” Gary was in enough pain to decide that the only smart reply was the one that convinced his father to stop the spanking. “I’m sorry I put the toad in Timon’s bed. I won’t do that again, I promise.” 

“You’ll apologize to Timon?” Father’s palm rested on Gary’s back, but Gary didn’t question that it would resume spanking if he offered an unsatisfactory response. 

“Yes, sir.” Gary nodded so swiftly he dizzied and consoled his bruised ego with the notion that he could negate his apology to Timon by crossing his fingers and toes since his father at least hadn’t forbidden him that pride-saving. 

He yelped at the roughness of the fabric against his heated bottom as Father restored his breeches to their proper position. When Father guided him into a hug against his strong shoulder, Gary sniffled. Certain that he must sound the most pitiable creature in the Mortal Realms, he asked, “Can I at least clean up before apologizing to Timon?” 

“You may.” Father could no more resist correcting Gary’s grammar than the sun could refrain from rising in the east at every dawn. 

Gary snorted, thinking that his father should have been grateful that he had shown the manners of asking permission at all. 

“I’ll take that snort as a sign you need a handkerchief.” Father’s tone was tart but the handkerchief he pressed beneath Gary’s running nose was gentle. As Gary blew into the handkerchief, Father continued, “I’m not trying to embarrass you before Timon, but you’re the heir to Naxen duchy. The people of this duchy have a right to expect that you’ll respect their service, not treat it with contempt.” 

There was more disappointment than sternness in Father’s dirt brown eyes, and Father’s disappointment hurt more than any spanking, so Gary could only duck his head and vow to be a better heir to his father and to Naxen.


End file.
